Echoes of Infinity
by LithiumDoll
Summary: What if every choice made created a new world, and the threads between worlds began to unravel ...? (discontinued)


**Disclaimer:** Not mine, Joss Whedon's. Alllll his. Please don't sue, all you'll get is my stereo.  
**Spoilers:** Sort of. Er ... mostly for seasons 3-5   
**Archive:** Sure if ya want it, just lemmee know where it's going.   
**Feedback:** If you wanna  
**Notes:** Some of the conversations and events in this may seem oddly familiar - they're meant to :) It takes place after The Gift, but begins from a week or so after the end of season 3. Yeah, I'm confused too. :) - This is a repost of "Echoes" cause the chapters all went kablooie. 

**Prologue**  
For every choice, every path taken and not taken, a universe is born. _They_ make the pattern of reality. Weaving the tangle of possibility, of what was and what should be. What could be. 

_They_ watched as she fought. _They_ watched as she fell. In perpetuity _They_ saw the echos of what might have been as the countdown began. From the threads of infinity _They_ made the world again. 

**Part 1**  
  
He awoke to distorted and muted shouts. Half in the shadow of dreams he could still feel hovering like a comforting oblivion, it took him a moment to realise the fight was not taking place in his bedroom. He listened as his head cleared, until only one voice remained above him, a girl's voice. He muzzily attempted to imagine how a fight could go on over his head, but gave that up in favour of piecing together where the hell he was. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. 

It was damp under his fingers, a layer of something soft but gritty and then the hardness of wood. Breath was very suddenly becoming an issue as the musty air in his lungs started to make an impression on his train of thought. His eyes snapped open in horror. It was dark. Really dark. He could still hear someone moving above him, their movements dislodging crumbs of earth into his eyes and mouth. Still his mind refused to accept what the evidence was screaming at him. 

You're underground. You're in a coffin. You've been buried. 

With a moan he raised his hands, pushing against the wood, bringing even more earth down upon him. Devoid of thought now, he scrabbled to the surface, clawing at the earth in terror. 

The vampire had gone down easy, hardly any time for the snappy patter she liked to use. A waste of good material that. This train of thought had lead her towards her ever increasingly inventive reasons for being late home or for school. "Gee, sorry, I was attacked by the undead". The undead excuse had earned her a three-week grounding. "Zombies ate my homework" had given her the same in detention. True, she'd earned that one. She almost laughed to herself, until the events of the last year flashed through her mind before she could stop them, bringing the anger, the fear, and all the pain in the world. With determination she pushed them away. Things were definitely of the good now, they'd rained on the Mayor's Ascension, Faith was no longer an issue, The Council was out of the picture and ... he was gone. He was gone. 

The sound of fingers clawing at dirt about twenty feet away for once did not alert her, too engrossed in keeping herself from the mire her mind kept trying to turn towards. What she did notice was the cold and damp fingers that wrapped themselves around her throat in an iron grip. Her mind paused in shock, there weren't supposed to be any more bloodsuckers rising tonight. Happily, while the mind froze, her body reacted with the speed and strength that marked her as the chosen, the Slayer. 

With a gasp of relief he finally made it into the night air, cold and crisp with a light smattering of rain, oddly pleasant again his sweating skin. He could hear the sounds of more fighting beyond his ... area, he couldn't bring himself to think grave, not yet. Deal with the present first. Looking cautiously around a tombstone thick with damp mildew, he saw a young girl in a large leather jacket that made her seem even smaller than she was. Struggling away from ... what? 

Its face was a inhuman, harsh and angular, jagged teeth projected from a gaping mouth as it attempted to bite the girl. Bobby tried to make himself move to her, to help beat off the thing that was dressed in what appeared to be a high school jacket, a lettered jacket. He couldn't though, couldn't force himself to move from the cold comfort of his hiding place behind the stone. Then he realised with sudden clarity that the girl wasn't scared. In fact, she almost seemed to be toying with monster, talking to it. 

She grinned as she threw her attacker bodily away and spun to face him. "Hi there ugly, you didn't have an appointment." She smiled brightly "But that's ok, its not like I have a social life you're interrupting here, oooh nooo. There's always time for one more guy with a bad case of death breath". She flung herself into a forward roll, under his mad rush and flailing arms, coming up to forcefully ram a stake between his ribs and into his heart. He just had time to look down in shock before vaporising where he stood. 

The boy behind the tombstone couldn't restrain a gasp for all his trying. The thing has just disappeared! And how the hell did the girl move so fast? He could vaguely recognise her now. Buffy something, in the year below him, a new girl. A new girl that, he noted with alarm, had turned to face him with a scowl and a brand new piece of pointy wood. He scrabbled away in fear, tripping over an uneven patch of ground in his hurry and landing sprawled on his face with his back to her. He rolled to face the sky just in time to see the stake flash down into his chest. A flash of burning pain, then, nothing. 

The girl looked down in muted horror at the corpse at her feet. He was supposed to be dust now. She bent further down to shake him, hearing a voice repeating in strangled tones "no, no, no, no, no." A small part of her mind that wasn't screaming that she'd just killed a person recognised the horrified whispering as her own. She drew a deep breath and looked at the guy. It was easy to see why she had made the mistake. 

He was young, and she suspected would have had dark tussled hair, if it weren't plastered to his face by sodden earth. He was wearing an old fashioned suit that you'd expect to wed and be buried in. His skin was clammy and pale. In other words, he looked like he'd just crawled out of a grave. 

She sat at his side with a limp thud, staring ahead dully, then down at the kid again. He looked familiar. Must have seen him around high school, but not lately the quiet train of thought that insisted on invading her private moment of guilt ridden panic politely and quietly informed her. A sudden surge of anger filled her. What the hell was he doing sneaking around graveyards? Why the hell wasn't he at the Bronze like every other normal kid? The anger died as quickly as it sprung, leaving numbness in its wake. She knew she should find Giles, he'd know what to do. Even Xander, Willow, anyone. But she couldn't, all she could do was stare down at the corpse. Then her eyes widened and her breathe caught in her throat as she watched incredulously. Slowly, inch by inch, the stake was pushing itself from the heart of her victim. In stunned silence she stared as it fell to the side of his body, impacting against the sodden ground with a light, almost hollow, sound before rolling to a slow stop. 

He aware before he was truly conscious and felt himself begin to breathe with hesitant shuddering gasps. He opened his eyes, then sat up in a rush, almost bowling over the girl who was leaning over him with a mixture of disbelieving joy plain across her face. His hand moved to his chest, there was a hole in his jacket and dried blood on the pale skin that was visible through it, but no bloody mess where his heart should have been. 

He looked up at the girl and spoke with what he hoped was a steady and blasé tone but had settled on choked and stilted as he held out his hand. 

"Hi ... Robert ... Bobby Marick. Dead man walking". 

Her eyes were wide as she shook his offered hand with the same artificial calm. "Buffy Summers. Very confused". 

--------- 

Through the sudden downpour that the almost constant light rain had threatened all day, the two managed to make it to the library without drawing too much attention to themselves. As usual, the lights were on. As she walked through the swing door, Buffy was already looking around for Giles. Her Watcher was the only person she knew with even less of a life than she did and so therefore bound to be here looking in some dusty book or other with all evidence of delight. Warped much? Bobby tagged along behind, trying to work out how they had changed the décor of the school so much since yesterday. After all he thought with a twinge of unease, that's when he was last here. 

Rupert Giles had actually been happy enough cataloguing the student books up on the gallery section. It was oddly pleasant to be able to look over titles such as 'European Dictators 1900 - 1945' rather than his usual standard 'Wychef Prophefief of Hell, Death and Hideouf Doom' or some such. Yes, really quite pleasant indeed. The party at the Bronze would be a nice break for the others, and even Buffy would be able to enjoy a ... The main doors slammed open interrupting his peaceful train of thought and causing him to jump slightly, though he recovered his aplomb quickly as he strode to the railing of the balcony to look down. What on earth could possibly have gone wrong now? 

He was greeted by a rather pathetic sight. Buffy and a strange young man were standing in puddles of water, bits of mud clinging to them. Both had torn clothing, pale faces and eyes wide with black smudges developing under them. Buffy opened her mouth, then closed it again. Something must be wrong indeed, he thought, as he crossed quickly to the stairs, if Buffy Summers was lost for words. 

Jogging down the stairs to them he called out in a voice that brooked no argument, yet still managed to sound polite, "Sit down both of you". He drew up to Buffy as she was gratefully collapsing into one of the old leather library chairs, trailing rain water, then he passed the young man on his way to a store cupboard at the side wall. Bobby watched the action librarian at work as he perched on the edge of another leather-backed chair. For a tweed wearing, leather elbowed, English weirdo, as he had been labelled by the Jocks of the school upon his arrival, Mr Giles sure could move. He was everywhere, dragging out some blankets, bringing them hot sweet tea, shutting and locking the main door, lowering the lights and upping the heaters, and all without another word until they were somehow comfortably all sat around the table and feeling much warmer. 

--------- 

Even in the car they hadn't used for months he could catch the scent of the perfume he'd bought her to celebrate the death of the Annoying One, heavy with bruised roses and musk. Dru had been happy with his present then. All of his presents. Before that bastard ... He cut the thought off and chose to remember the good decades with his lover. The activities he'd invented to keep her amused, happy, fed. 

Anything, anything at all for her. The damned scent wouldn't fade, always hovering on the edges of his senses. At first he'd though it was remnants, but sometimes it was so bloody strong. More to the point, at specific times it was so bloody strong. He snarled as he reached a decision he had tried everything not to make. 

He ran one hand through his short, peroxide blond hair, while the other spun the wheel as the engine revved. A harsh u-turn later and the car was pushing 120 back down the road it had already travelled. At least he knew for sure where it ended. 

He muttered as he drove, incoherent even to himself, blinking angrily. He wasn't crying for godsake. He was a big, tough, evil son of a bitch, demon bound bastard. The Big Bad. "Yeah" he half whispered as he pulled in at yet another faceless gas station, stepping out into a night filled with cold driving rain that pounded against the corrugated roof of the attendant's shelter "You just keep telling yourself that mate" His hands reached of their own accord into his pockets for cigarettes and a lighter. He lit up as he stared at the scene before him, the streetlights of the town in the distance illuminating the dark pitch of the sky like some echo of flames. Sunnyhell. 

The attendant filling the tank of the DeSoto watched the man with trepidation as he worked. It wasn't that he looked threatening, not really. After some of the freaks they'd had through here, he paled in comparison. It wasn't even the words he spoke quietly to the town below, tone ironic and holding a promise of darkness that belied the words. It was the smile as he said them. 

"Home sweet home" 

--------- 

"So, what you're saying is, you woke up in a coffin" Giles spoke slowly trying to exude a calmness he was in no way feeling. He surveyed his charges over the top of a dusty book entitled, ironically enough "Hideouf Doom" 

"Well, ah, I think at least we can rule out Vampirism. Buffy's already proved that little ... "He trailed off, eyes back firmly in the tome. Buffy rolled her eyes at Bobby. "He'll be like this for a while, don't take any notice. Do what we do, nod." Bobby nodded, searching for a topic of conversation that didn't involve his grave. 

"So you stake people often?" it sounded weak even to him, but she shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah, I'm, like, the Slayer. Chosen from a generation, kill vampires yadda yadda yadda. Of course, my job description's been expanded, living on the Hellmouth and all. I'll do Zombies, Demons, Witches". Boyfriends she added to herself with a silent ache of old sorrow that she clamped down hard on instantly. Don't go there. Think good happy thoughts. He's not in hell, he's just in LA. She studied Giles as he worked for a moment and had to smile. What she did would kill her young, she knew that. But he was first amongst those giving her borrowed time, and he always would be. 

Giles spoke up again, laying down his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose as he considered his words carefully. "Robert, Bobby, you were ... killed ... in a car accident a little under a year ago" He rushed on, better to give the boy something to think about other than his early and messy demise. "And you say this is the first time you woke up?" Bobby nodded mutely "And you haven't found yourself being followed by a large black bird at all?" A negative shake of the head, with an increasingly dazed cast to the eyes. 

Damn, the lad was going further into shock. "All right, that's enough for tonight. There's a bed in the back there. I suggest a good sleep. Things will be, ah, better in the daylight and, um, all that. We'll call your parents tomorrow ... " 

Bobby wordlessly trudged to the back of the library, blanket still wrapped about him, and carefully shut the door. The bed was indeed there as promised. His head hit the pillow and he knew no more. 

Buffy and Giles sat looking at each other across the table for a few moments before the girl finally broke the silence. "Good people skills there Giles." 

Her sarcasm fell a little flat as he shrugged and looked decidedly worried. She blinked. "You don't know what he is do you?" 

The Watcher shook his head distractedly, already making a list in his mind of the books he would search through tonight. "Not a clue. He doesn't fit any case I've heard of." He struggled into an optimistic smile. "But I haven't had the chance to look at everything yet. Oh, beep Willow. She was wondering where you were. Something about helping her groupie at the Bronze" She nodded, with the hint of a mischievous smile. "Night Giles, don't let the bookworms bite" He grunted as she left to find a phone. 

--------- 

The music was pulsating out of the club so hard he could almost feel the pavement beneath his feet keeping the beat. It was violent, elemental energy. Spike smiled. They were playing his song. He slipped inside with a gaggle of latecomers. They didn't matter. Staring around the packed inside he saw his prey. The red haired witch, staring adoringly up at the stage where her boyfriend was playing guitar. The dark haired boy and girl in the corner making out. No Slayer though. "Pity" he whispered as he moved onto the dance floor, through the mass of frenetically jumping bodies, towards the red-head. 

Willow moved in time to the beat, slowly relaxing enough to let herself almost dance. She knew she was making sappy eyes at Oz and sometimes she thought she should be more smooth about it. But he was just so... Oz. She tensed when the hands went around her waste, then grinned, turning. "Xander ..." She stopped, eyes travelling up. Not Xander's chest, definitely not Xander's face. Spike's face. Spike's face grinning. She wanted to fight him off and deliver some cool one-liner like Buffy did. She settled for bringing her knee up sharply and screaming at the top of her lungs. 

Spike managed to twist enough to take the knee on his hip, but it had staggered him enough to let the girl go. He growled, knowing if he had fed it wouldn't even have fazed him. He shot a quick look around. Boyfriend was rushing forward angrily as the band's music trailed away in a scurry of disjointed chords. The couple were disengaging from their lip lock and heading in, dancers were drawing back startled. He began to make another grab at the screeching girl, wanting just a little bit of quiet, which her lack of a throat would provide. He froze. That scent again, even here. Spinning wildly his desperate eyes sought around the room, everything else forgotten as he whispered her name. 

"Dru ...?" 

Willow finished yelling. But the young of Sunnydale had developed a survival instinct in direct proportion to the town they lived in and were doing her screaming for her as they ran for the door. The Scooby gang stared at the distracted vampire before them, gathering together into a huddle. 

Xander was the first to speak, mouth quirked into a sardonic little smile. "You know, they'll let anyone in here ..." 

There was a loud beep from Willow's purse, her hand clamped down on it even as the piercing noise bought the vampire's attention back to them. He shook off his hallucination and stepped towards them with a smirk. 

"Hello kids, where's the Slayer?" 

Willow answered him with a steady tone, nervous but not terrified. She couldn't help the abstract sense of pride - go her. 

"She's on her way here now and, and she's gonna be upset you've come back." She bobbed her head sincerely "Really upset. Especially if you try and hurt us ..." She silenced for a moment as he took a step closer, but rushed on "So if you go away now, right now, really fast she shouldn't know. I won't tell her you were here! None of us will" 

The smile didn't flicker as he took another step towards them, close enough to reach out and touch some one. "The point is pet, I want her to know I'm here." 

He began to extend a hand when Xander and Oz launched themselves onto him with kamikaze yells. 

--------- 

Standing by the phone, Buffy frowned. Willow always answered. She was religious about that sort of thing. "But what if someone thinks I'm dead in a ditch and I'm just watching TV? No, no, no, must answer beeper!" She hadn't answered. At a fast paced walk and finally at a run, she headed towards the Bronze. A bad feeling was gradually growing stronger and the crowd of students she encountered as she neared the club wasn't helping it. Hauling one to her at random, she practically screamed in his face. 

"What happened?" 

Dazedly the young man answered "Some girl yelled, we cleared out". She released him and pushed on even faster, through the doors, stopping dead at the sight that met her. Spike was flat on the floor, cursing man and God, while the scoobies had chosen an arm or leg each and were pinning it with everything they had. 

He stopped struggling and lifted his head to see who had entered. The Slayer. About time too. "Hello Slayer" his mouth twisted into a smirk "we must stop meeting like this". It took nearly everything to throw the girls from his arms and push Oz and Xander from his legs, but damned if he was going to let them know that. Still catching his balance, he faced her just in time to receive a high kick to the head. 

They looked at each other, then their eyes turned to the still figure on the floor. Xander finally spoke. "Well..." he gestured impatiently "...pointy wood death. Stabby stabby. That voodoo that you do so well." 

Through narrowed eyes Spike watched them blearily, regaining consciousness bit by bit. He held position, not moving an inch, just listening with a sudden rush of triumph as he heard the light steps of the Slayer walking to his side. The elation quickly passed as she dropped one knee hard into his stomach, making him roll with a muffled yell. Before he remembered his good intentions not to fight he was on his feet in a low crouch, ready to spring at her, take that pretty white neck in his hands and rip it out. She danced back with a grin. 

"Playing possum? Not like you Spike. Where's the death threats? The I'll get you next time Gadget?" She circled warily, not understanding the hooded look to the vampire's eyes. Usually they were bright with life ... unlife, easy windows to the cheerfully evil soul he no longer possessed. Now they were just ... dead. What the hell was he up to? 

He backed away, hands out and splayed palm down for balance, attempting to fight the demanding urge to take her life. Why the hell hadn't she staked him already. It's not like he hadn't iven her the bloody chance. Well, if sticks and stones don't work, let's try words. 

"How's Angel luv? Sent him to hell lately?" He tried to put every ounce of cruelty he could muster into his tone, and judging from her flinch, he'd hit home. With disappointment he watched as she fought her pain and hurt down, the smile resurfacing determinedly bright. She returned the favour. 

"Where's Drusilla _luv_? Didn't manage to get her back huh?" She went on relentlessly as he didn't answer. "Did she find a better boyfriend? Or just dust herself from the thought of eternity with you?" 

His lips tightened against something and she realised she'd hit home somewhere along the line. But he stood straighter, dropping out of the fighter's balance, schooling his expression and speaking lightly. 

"Good guess pet, with the dust and all. Nice to see that brain of yours is good for something more than playing soccer with. And I don't think it's too much to ask that you send me to join her. It's not difficult" His voice dripped with sarcasm "I can show you how if you want. You take the pointy bit of wood and insert about here" he drew a cross over his heart with a finger. "Need a diagram?" 

The Slayerettes had been looking between the two in classic tennis match fashion, but now stood in quiet shock at this unexpected request, though Xander definitely seemed about to happily offer his assistance. Buffy got a word in first, buying time while she tried to think. 

"Aww, poor Spike. Why'd you need me to do it? You're a big nasty vampire, I'm sure you can figure it out by yourself." 

Spike shifted on his feet, perversely enjoying the way the movement made the happy meals take a nervous step back, but he was irritated just the same. There wasn't really a way to tell her without sounding like he was begging. No matter. 

"It's the bloody demon isn't it. It'll let us throw ourselves at Slayers to die by the hundreds, but taking our own lives to save time and gas is right out. If you want a fight ducks, I'll give you a fight. Just keep that stake handy." At that he rushed her, hoping his wide-open attack would give her the hint. 

Buffy ducked and stepped aside, swinging to punch him in the back as he passed. He staggered and turned, raising a fist, she moved under it and attempted to out power him to the floor. To her surprise, it worked. He was much weaker now, the earlier kick to his head hadn't just been a lucky shot. The vampire landed badly, lying still for a moment and that moment was all she needed. Quicker than he could recover she was kneeling on his chest, stake pressed over his heart through the thin shirt. He stilled utterly, waiting for the end. She sat back, still keeping her weight on him. 

"I'm not going to stake you Spike. You don't deserve it. But I'll make you a deal. Help us with a little problem we seem to have, if you're good, I'll kill you at the end of it" 

He made a grab for her throat that she easily avoided, slamming him back to knock the breath from him once more. He laughed mockingly when he could talk properly. 

"And if I don't? If I decide to make lunch of your little friends instead?" 

She frowned. "I'll..." 

The cold grin on his face resurfaced. "You'll what? Kill me?" 

Buffy's own smile matched his as inspiration hit her, a humourless offering that made Willow shiver as she watched. She feared this part of her friend. The part that bargained on equal ground with the monsters. Even if they were obviously having suicidal tendencies. Buffy had become harder and even more determined than she'd been before. Something had been lost in her spirit and sometimes, when Willow was feeling melancholy, she missed it. Quietly Willow edged into Oz's arms, he held her against him gently, tightening the embrace into a reassuring hug before he loosed again. 

"No Spike, I'll keep you locked up tight. No light, no blood. Giles says that can't kill a vampire, but it's pretty nasty." The flash of worry in his eyes pleased and strangely saddened her. Would everyone around her change? Spike had at least always been constant before. In a bad, I'm going to kill you Slayer, sort of way. Carefully she stood up and away, allowing him to climb to his feet. 

Smoothing down his leather duster, Spike pretended to consider. He raised his gaze to the ceiling, trying to save a little dignity and at least walk away with a degree of pride. 

"Choices, choices. All right Slayer, I'll play for now. What's the game?" 

Anya nodded from her own position in Xander's arms and chirped up with her usual degree of tolerance and understanding for her, now, fellow man. "Yeah, now the little melodrama is over with, what is the problem? Don't feel you have to tell me. I'm only asking because Xander thinks I should show more interest when you save the world" 

Buffy drew a deep breath, exhaling it with her first word. "All will be explained at the Library ... I hope" She turned and marched out, only vaguely listening to the various half-hearted grumbles and whispered comments of her friends as they trailed after her, resisting the impulse to check if Spike would follow too. 

The rain was still falling in a light wash, she turned her face up for a few moments, letting it take away some of the sweat and grime gathered in the brief fight off her face. Spike... she frowned. A Spike with a death-wish. Normally she would have given him his request without a thought. He'd been a major part of her problems in Sunnydale. He was an evil, soulless bastard, just like all of his kind. 

Except he wasn't quite like all his kind. For a start he did actually seem to feel more than your average vampire. He went beyond the rage, cruelty, kill, kill thing. There had been a love between he and Drusilla, a weird one, but love for all of that. She'd never seen one of the undead risk their lives for another of their kind without some form of coercion, usually in the shape of abject fear. He had taken care of his fruitcake girl with an obsessive devotion. 

She wondered what had killed Drusilla, not really believing she would have killed herself despite her words. Had to have been something good to get past Spike. Hell, she smirked, for a second giving into the tide of self-pity that always seemed to threaten her these days, it's not like the relationship she'd had with Angel had been any less warped. Sleep with him once, doom them forever and send him to hell. Yeah, that was way up there on the normal relationship scale. Her gaze slid to the blond vampire walking a little behind them. She would just see how this went. They could play for now. 

He walked behind the group, zoning out the chatter of the brunette and ignoring the alternating suspicious and fearful glances from the others. As they neared the school campus, he still couldn't figure where precisely it had gone wrong. Somewhere, he mused, around the gas station area when he didn't head back to Brazil. Well ... maybe it wasn't a complete loss, if he killed a couple of them now, she'd have to kill him, surely ... 

Out of the corner of her eye Willow saw Spike halt suddenly, taking an unnecessary breath of the air. She didn't want to talk to him, but she was curious and had been since the Bronze. 

"What's wrong?" 

At her words all of them halted looking puzzled. Damn. Muttering under his breath he said "Rose Musk ..." 

Xander frowned 

"Is that some weird Rosebud sledge thing?" 

Spike contemplated Xander's oh so fragile neck for a moment, then remembered Buffy's promise of his fate and shook his head, managing to more or less civilly bite his next words out. 

"No, as in perfume, you candidate for mensa you" His voice softened slightly. "Dru's, I can smell it." 

Xander smiled, he was enjoying this new and tormented Spike. He sniffed the air dramatically "Perhaps she's near... no! Wait! She'd dead isn't she?" He smiled pleasantly. "You're just going insane" 

Before Spike could leap at him and damn the consequences, Buffy was between them, smiling. "Small, dark, bloodless places Spike, remember that". He backed off. He could take the moron out later. 

--------- 

His eyes had stopped hurting a few moments ago, as soon as they'd got adjusted to the idea they would once more be required to function without complaint in an all night research session. Giles knew all the tricks; alteration of posture every few minutes, holding the book just so far away and using a UV bulb. He could happily research the night away and come out no worse off than as if he'd been merely studying for a couple of hours. 

"Achievement of the ages" he muttered dryly to himself as he reached out to a new and interesting dusty tome written in a language he considered the originators of had gone out of their way to make obscure. The same symbol for life and death for heaven's sake. Then, an odd smell caught his attention. It was slightly sweet in a sickly, heavy way. 

Under the sweetness was a rotten stench, he knew that smell. Someone, somewhere, was decomposing and they weren't being slow about it either. He stood as the odour began to bear down on him, becoming oppressive. Trying to control the reflex to gag he ran to open the windows. With a horrible certainty, he turned slowly to look at the door that led into the back room. Bobby could no longer be counted amongst the living. Again. 

The sound of voices he recognised began to echo along the empty corridors of the Highschool, growing steadily louder and clearer. Buffy had returned and it sounded like she'd bought the others back with her. Reaching a quick decision he strode to the double doors of the library and opened them, moving through them and into the corridor quickly. Rounding the corner was Buffy looking grim, Xander, Anya, Oz, Willow and Spike. He opened his mouth to tell them they really didn't want to go into the library at the moment, but instead did a quick double take on the head count. A moment's pause before he addressed his Slayer in a calm and even tone Buffy knew only too well. 

"Buffy, I can't help but notice Spike appears to be with you" 

She eyed her Watcher for a moment, deciding which tack to take. She settled for blasé. 

"Yeah, he's helping for now. Long story" 

Anya spoke up cheerfully. "Drusilla's dead, he wants to die, Buffy won't stake him until he's helped with something." 

"Apparently not that long" 

Spike leant against the wall of the corridor and took another deep breath, grinning lazily. Xander sneered, though he really didn't like that smile. 

"What? More perfume?" 

"No bloodbag, death. I smell death, smells good too." 

Willow coughed politely before speaking into the uncomfortable silence that had suddenly descended. "This may sound a little off track and all. But why does is smell like something rotten here?" 

Buffy looked quickly up at Giles. He was standing in front of the door almost as if he would bar the way. His face was blanched an unhealthy colour and he avoided her gaze. She crossed deliberately to stand before him, speaking quietly. 

"Where's Bobby?" She tried to peak over his shoulder to see through the windows of the doors, but her moved to block her. 

"Um, I really don't think you want to go in there right at this moment. Any of you." He swallowed thickly. "With the possible exception of Spike, whom I'm sure you'll be fully explaining the presence of to me very soon". He looked hard at her as she gave him her patented bright smile, but at least had the grace to colour a little. 

He was bored. Never had had a great attention span and the Slayer and Watcher trying to out stare each other as her friends shuffled and covered their noses with their sleeves was getting old very quickly. Pushing away from the wall he slipped around the two with a tacit "'scuse me" and swung one of the door into the library. God, what a stench. The hastily thrown open window wasn't relieving much of the smell at all. It was definitely originating from the back room. 

There was a rotting corpse wrapped in a blanket on a cot bed. He crouched by its side and with a careful hand tried to brush aside some of the dark hair that was obscuring the things face. The hair came away in sticky clumps from the corpse entirely and he shook the strands from his fingers, grimacing as he studied what he could now see. Most of the skin had gone, what was left was a diseased green shade, puffy with the bacteria that slowly chewed the dead flesh away. Some kid, decomposing as he watched. Ah well, be bones soon enough and then at least it would stop being so inconsiderate as to create such an evil smell. 

He stood and began to turn away, when a damp and none too solid hand caught the material of his pants in an insistent grip. Staring down, he saw a spark of life and fear in the kid's bulbous eyes. Through a ruined mouth, using air his broken down lungs barely had, Bobby wheezed "Help me". Spike stopped trying to pull away. Bloody hell, there was someone in the mess. He acted without a thought, tearing the kid's head off. With a sickening wrench it came free, getting him splattered with thickened black blood in the process. Quickly he turned the skull in his hands and looked into the rheumy eyes. The spark was gone, he'd done his good deed for the century. 

As soon as Spike had left, Buffy stopped the stare down and tried the wheedling tactic that served her so well. "Giles, he's gone weird. I really don't think he's going to be a problem right now and we can use his help. He might know something. Besides, he's weak too. If he tries anything, he's dust" She held two fingers up together. "Scouts honour" She stared at him with guileless blue eyes. 

There was something more to this, but he gave an unhappy nod. 

"All right, all right. Marvellous. There's a bigger problem anyway." 

A collective groan filled the air. Wasn't there always a bigger problem? Willow reflected it would be quite nice to hear one day that there was a smaller problem, or no problem at all. Yes, no problem at all would be nice. And while she was dreaming, she might as well throw winning the lottery in too. On the Hellmouth with a Slayer for a best friend, a lack of problems was about as likely as Cordelia developing a taste for paisley and UNIX. Or, she thought wryly as Giles began to speak, teaming up with Spike. 

Giles tried to think of a delicate manner in which he could explain the situation to the others. There really wasn't one, so he forged ahead as best he could. 

"Buffy um bought a young man back from patrol with her who, well, died a year ago and chose to rise tonight. He wasn't a vampire or a zombie or somesuch." His headache was returning in full force "I sent him off to bed when Buffy left to find you and ... I believe, given the evidence of the odour and um, other such, um ... he is now deliquescing." Four pairs of eyes blinked at him. 

Willow filled the silence after his comment, almost tangibly feeling the confusion from Xander. "He's rotting" 

They all jumped as the doors of the library opened once more, having temporarily forgotten the vampire in their midst. He didn't look too good in the harsh light of the hall. If it was possible his skin was even whiter, far paler than his bleached out hair. There was black gunk over his duster and hands, even a little on his cheek he hasn't wiped off. His stare was still as arrogant as ever though, and his voice was steady and confident as he spoke. 

"The kid in there was still alive." He stopped to let this nasty realisation sink in before he went on "He isn't anymore, I ripped his head off." 

Buffy managed to focus on his last words, trying to ignore the nausea creeping in her stomach that gave an acidic taste to her mouth. 

"You killed him!?" She stepped forward raising the stake, he didn't back off. But then, the wall of the corridor gave him few places to back to as she advanced. "Which part of 'help' didn't you understand? Killing friends of mine is NOT help! 

He grinned indolently at her, daring her to use the stake. It was that that stopped her. That and the sudden realisation what the goo over him was. Old clotted blood. Her eyes widened as she stepped back, processing his entire sentence. 

"He ... he was still alive and rotting?" 

Spike nodded grudgingly. "Yeah, falling apart at the seams" 

She ignored his tasteless comment, looking at Giles. She wasn't comforted, he looked as lost as she. 

Spike checked his watch, a good few hours before dawn. The corpse should be well and truly done by then. "Give it a few minutes, I'll take the body and dump it. Wouldn't do to 'ave it in the library, now would it? 

Giles frowned. "Why are you being so helpful all of a sudden?" 

Spike replied with a flat smile. "The kindness of my heart. And it'll be on my way." 

"To where?" 

"There's a walking snack bar out there mate, man's gotta eat sometime hasn't he? I'm not angst boy, I like my blood fresh and preferably screaming." 

"No" Her voice was quiet as she interjected, but steely. Buffy shook her head. "No killing, or it's the box time. I mean it." He shrugged, not the reaction she had expected. 

"No killing. Not a problem." 

He went back into the library, leaving the doors swinging gently and Buffy frowning. What the hell was he up to? 

--------- 

It was almost laughable. In fact, he did laugh as he wrapped the body, now mostly skeleton, in the ruined blanket. Killing. As if he could now. Not when her bloody perfume invaded his moments of bloodlust, ruining his concentration and fun. It was difficult enough feeding at all with that sort of distraction. He was beginning to let nights go past between hunting down a mortal, just to avoid the inevitable assault on his senses that left him in a black pit he never thought he could feel. It was sheer need that made him hunt tonight. That and he really wanted to piss the Slayer off. 

Buffy watched the vampire and his gruesome package wrapped in the army blanket stroll down the corridor with troubled eyes, turning to her friends finally. "Look, I'm going to follow him, see what he's up to. You guys should try and air out the Library, maybe hit the books and see what's happening?" 

She'd hoped the decisive tone in her voice would give her a clean break away and oddly enough, it did. Giles turned wordlessly into the Library, trying to organise an efficient working force. "Um, Xander, Oz and myself will tidy out the back room. I think it's best if Anya and Willow begin on the books." Xander grimaced and looked towards the back room with distaste. 

"Is this another 'men deal with the bodies, women have the babies' moment? Cause, I gotta say, I'm pretty sure there was this whole equal rights bill ... " He held his hands up in mock surrender at the pointed silence from Giles and followed Oz towards the back room. 

Well, so far he'd done pretty much as she'd expected. Bobby's body had been taken back to it's place in the graveyard, and earth roughly flung back in the hole his departure had left. The work of a few minutes. She tailed him towards the park after that. Most of the benches were playing bed to the towns resident homeless, the richer ones wrapped in patched blankets, the less fortunate made do with layers of newspaper. Eyes narrowed and ready to leap at him, Buffy watched as Spike crouched beside one of the men and clamped a hand over the sleeper's mouth. The bum woke and struggled uselessly as the fanged monster bore down towards his neck, then paused. 

The tableau was held for a moment, then with a rough hand the man was shoved back untouched, Spike flung himself to his feet and ran haphazardly away, into the bushes that surrounded the area. Buffy ran after him, understanding suddenly as she left a familiar scent behind her, one she hadn't smelt since Drusilla had left. Rose musk. 

The vampire wasn't hard to track, ripped branches marked his passing, but she could hear the snapping of foliage and muttered swearing ahead of her anyway. When the sounds of running ceased she slowed to a walk and came upon him sitting despondently on the edge of the sidewalk outside the park. 

He hadn't noticed her following him, but he recognised her footsteps behind him. So he spoke as she approached, but didn't bother to turn to look at the girl he wanted to kill him. 

"And that's what it's been like, night after bloody night since she died" Spike did look at her as she sat quietly beside him, expressionless, but listening. "I haven't eaten in nearly a week. Haven't even killed in two, 'cept that poor bugger in the library. Trust me, if this goes on much longer, I'll take your box because, frankly luv, it's going to be quicker." He didn't know what he was expecting her to do or say, but the chuckle hadn't been high on his list reaction predictions. 

"Let me get this straight. Drusilla is dead, you can't feed and you've decided to give up. That's ... pathetic. Even for you Spike. Have you tried to get blood from animals? Or blood bags from Willy's?" 

"Animals? God, soul boy might be able to live on rats, but I can't. Or blood bags. Far as I can figure, the blood feeds the body, the fear feeds the demon" He shook his head, words clipped and smug sounding "Blood on it's own won't cut it" 

Buffy considered for a moment. This was an aspect to vampire feeding she hasn't considered before. Blood is life, but it needed adrenaline to work or something? Why didn't Angel ... his voice interrupted her musing. 

"She was everything to me. Sure, she was fickle, insane, cruel... those were her best features. She had me, I had her. And that was all we needed" He nodded to himself as he felt the rightness in that, not really paying attention to the Slayer at his side anymore. Buffy had to repeat herself before he heard her question. 

"How did she die?" 

"She stopped eating, no matter who I bought her. Even the little kiddies, she used to play tea parties with them first you see... There was this teapot she kept just for their ..." He paused, a glance at the Slayer's expression confirming his suspicion this wasn't what she really wanted to hear. He shrugged and continued "Then she started on about her dolls, began leaving them outside and then trying to get them when the sun was up. Had to tie her up and force-feed her in the end. I watched her as long as I could, but I fell asleep. When I woke up she was gone and the sun was still up." 

He played absentmindedly with the scars on the back of his hands, remembering how his minions had had to pull him back from the light as he burned, and then been killed for their trouble as his grief found an easy outlet. "I opened the back door, there were her dolls... all burned up with ashes covering them." 

"I thought you said Vampire's couldn't kill themselves?" 

"Yeah, well, Dru never was too in touch with her inner demon you know." Avoiding her eyes he faced her. "All right, you've heard the pathetic little sob story, you slay vampires, you have one right here who really doesn't feel much like fighting right now. Getting a word picture?" 

"Okay, next question for 300... why me? I'm sure there are plenty of people out there who would love to take you out. Some of them could even do it if you held still long enough." She watched his reaction, amused as he looked faintly embarrassed. 

"Yeah, tried them first. Didn't work too well. Half of them thought I was trying it on and ran off, the rest went for it and ... " He coughed almost sheepishly "...died. It's the whole survival thing. You're the last bet. You're pretty tough and I'm not up to speed so it should be easy enough." 

She chose to ignore the backhanded compliment in the face of curiosity. "Couldn't you just stop feeding?" 

"Nah, It'll get so I can't even move in another week or so, but I'll still be there. Nasty way to go" 

"And you deserve any better?" She was angry now, standing over him in. "You're an evil demon who's evil demon girlfriend did the world a favour and left it. And I'm meant to feel what? Sorry for you?" He seemed about to speak, from his expression it would be something sarcastic no doubt. She didn't give him the chance. 

"If you get even half the pain from this as you're saying, I say good. May you live a real long time to feel it. It's the least we ... you deserve." 

It was his silence and querying lift of the scarred eyebrow that made her pause and replay her last words in her mind. His words were quiet, measured, matching her thoughts with a restrained amusement. 

"_We_, pet?" 

"Don't, just ... don't" She was tired and suddenly revolted by everything the night had held. When it seemed he would comply and not pursue the subject she continued in a tone sounding subdued even to her own ears. 

"Get up, you're coming back where I can keep an eye on you." She stalked back towards the school, knowing he followed. 

--------- 

_ Seven hundred and thirty days and nights to re-weave with threads from as many worlds as infinity would grant them. In all possible ways, she died. Always that night. And took their war with her. _

They watched their latest creation. Perhaps this would work where the pattern before had failed to. 

Two beings met in the void. Silent communion bound them in the stillness. The conversation lasted forever, and it never was. What is time but a convenience? 

"We take the thread too far. The pattern warps. The dimensions break." 

"But she lives" 

"The spiral begins. The Mayor is a mistake. The school still is." 

"But she lives" 

"The First One sees us. We change too much" 

"And yet, she lives" 

"So I think we really must watch the cemeteries much more closely until we discover what's happening. I would like to believe the case with Bobby was an isolated incident but ..." Giles looked around, there was no need to elaborate on the likelihood of that to any of those present. 

Willow rubbed her foggy eyes clear, blinking at a computer screen full of archived information that had ceased to hold meaning to her tired and put upon brain. They had all been in full research mode for hours, false dawn was beginning to tinge the sky outside, the town was stirring, and they'd come up with precisely bupkiss. 

"I'm getting nothing here. It's weird. Usually on the newsgroups at least there's something happening, or someone to ask. But it's _dead_ out there. And these old archives are kinda more about one hundred and one things to do with your zombie. I think I know more about dried sloth than I really wanted to." 

Xander spoke up without lifting his eyes from the text he was reading as he sat, feet on the table. 

"How can you ever know too much about dried sloth Will? It's so useful in everyday life ... Just think of the applications!" 

Silence followed his words, a pause, then flickers of slight amusment or vague disgust appeared on those around him as they involuntarily considered the applications. 

Before Anya could deliver anything on the subject, which her suddenly bright expression suggested she would, Buffy spoke up. 

"Ok, so we've got nothing but watching the cemeteries ... and images of dried sloth applications that years of therapy will probably never remove. Time to call it a day. Or night. Or whatever it is." 

She slid off the table where she had been sat cross-legged and stretched with a yawn. 

"And mom wanted me to take Dawnie 'round the mall for the all important school clothing run. I'd like to have a few hours of sleep before being dragged to every store there." 

"Slayer" 

He'd been so quiet up in the mezzanine of the library, sitting amongst the stacks, that she'd forgotten he was there. It had been a happy few hours. From his expression, Spike was less than thrilled to remind her of his presence either, but he continued as he headed down the stairs and towards the doors. 

"I'll be at the old factory if you come up with something actually half way interesting to do. Or until I find something half way interesting to do. You know, whichever comes first." 

And then he and his irritating smirk were gone. 

"You know, I don't think it'd be too much to ask for a sudden attack of day light saving around now. I'd be surprised" Xander looked out the window expectently, watching the twilight outside remain disappointingly sunless. "How come you never get surprises when you want them?" 

"Because karma, regrettably, is rarely instant. Go home Xander." Giles tone softened slightly "And the rest of you. Get some sleep. " He watched them shuffle out, stifling yawns and chatting quietly, then began to put away the books that were strewn around the room, wincing only slightly at the fresh coffee stains. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Soon there should be something resembling a plot. It'll all make sense, honest! Well, maybe not soon. The dried sloth shouldn't make sense under any circumstances :P 


End file.
